


Guard Dog

by orphan_account



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A werewolf escapes the clutches of a predecessor to the wolf cult, and makes a deal with the Dark One to get out and away - shelter, in exchange for guarding the border and hunting down intruders. Fatally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The girl was slight, small, boyish, and she ran as if she'd been born to it, with an ease like flying, to a fairy, or like swimming to a mermaid - ah, and there it was, he thought, the answer coming to him. He smiled, and took a step, deliberately letting the leaves crunch beneath his boot. She stopped: a mistake, as she quickly realized. The weariness, the terror, and the pain couldn't hit her running, but when she stopped...

Rumpelstiltskin watched as the werewolf doubled over in pain, shaking. She mastered herself quickly, and stood back up, looking around the wood. He wasn't visible, not quite yet, and he wondered if she knew where she was. This was certainly not the forest she'd left, nor even the Enchanted Forest. This was what had once been a Royal Forest, and now - well, most called it the Dark Forest. But the girl probably didn't know that; she was far too young to have been far from home, he thought, watching her eyes dart around in the clearing.

Finally, he stepped forward again, silently, and waited for her to turn around. The leap of surprise was most gratifying - he so enjoyed startling werewolves. They were so stubborn about knowing their surroundings.

"Lost something, dearie?"

She crouched back, a bit, a clearly defensive stance, but didn't quite growl - not as feral as she might've been. Closer now, he could see she was younger than he'd thought at first - not much older than Bae had-- he cursed inwardly, turning sharply away from that train of thought.

"Lost a lot of things," she said, finally, her breath uneven. "I think- I think I just lost my home. My, and my mother. And - everything, I--" she stopped, once again catching the sob before it could start.

Rumpelstiltskin winced inwardly. He should've known this was coming, one way or another. The cult of lunatic wolves had nearly been stamped out a hundred years ago, but just one surviving was enough to start the whole thing up again. The hunters must've just started the cycle up again, destroying the den in a frenzy - but someone always got out alive. He rather hoped this was the only one; she looked harmless enough. Nearly not a psychotic mastermind at all!

"And now," he informed her cheerfully, "You're trespassing! Not a good way to start things off with me, not at all."

The wolf took another step back, carefully. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I didn't know where the road was, or I would - didn't mean to sneak in."

Now that was an interesting piece. She'd meant to come here?

"Oho, so you were looking for me!" He chortled, and sidled around the girl, watching her try to keep calm. "You know, dearie, most people just call."

She shook her head. "I was looking for the forest - I didn't know it was yours."

He blinked at her, and stepped closer, close enough to feel her shivering. Cold? Fear? Probably fear.

"Didn't know it was mine? Who did you think ruled the Dark Forest?"

Wretchedly, she shook her head again. "I don't know, I just - this is the Dark Forest, and no wolves ever come here, nor men, nor hunters. Everyone's scared of it. That's why I was looking."

This one was a puzzle. He reached out and took her chin, peering down into the girl's eyes, which were wide and frightened - but not terrified. He found himself a bit mystified. No one who had stumbled into the Dark Forest and found themselves face to face with the Dark One should be merely a bit out of states - they should be nearly out of their wits with mindless terror. This girl didn't know who he was, he realized, a wide and bright smile beginning to dawn on his face. Someone had clearly been neglecting their duties, and never told the pups his name.

"This is called the Dark Forest, dearie," he told her, letting to to gesture grandly around them, "Because I am the Dark One. Have you truly heard no tales? None at all?" She shook her head, and he pressed his hand to his heart, fluttering his eyelashes. "Dearie me, I am wounded! No tales of Rumpelstiltskin? The Dark One, the evil demon who comes in the night, steals babes, bargains lives away, curses farms and eats wolflings for breakfast?"

She stumbled back again, and he grinned, pursuing.

"Oho now, none of that!" This time, she was stopped up short by a thick tree, behind her, and he pressed his advantage to an uncomfortably close point, recapturing her chin. She panted, and - ah, there it was, that sharp fear like he was about to snap her neck. He grinned, searching her face, and her breathing slowed.

"Bargains - that's what I heard." Her voice was barely audible, even this close. "They were talking in the village, last year, about a duke's second son who made a deal with someone, Rumpelstiltskin, and wound up turned into a fish."

He giggled and took a step back, bowing deeply. "You heard right! Ah, I thought that would catch fire, sooner or later." He batted his eyelashes at her. "Did they tell the part where I sold him to his dear wife for supper, disguised as a humble fisherman?"

The wolf blinked at him, tilting her head. "Th-- no. But they said his wife barely gave the slightest pretense to mourning, and it - well, I didn't think it was true."

Rumpelstiltskin laughed again. "Well!" He crossed his legs and leaned on thin air, tapping one foot as he surveyed the girl, who seemed to have forgotten to be terrified. "Now you know, dearie - I make bargains. Perhaps..." _No, no, no, bad idea, don't say it,_ "We can work something out?" He nodded invitingly at her. "You should start with some information."

She took a deep breath, nodding back. "Information?"

"Something simple! Like oh, I don't know... why were you so intent on getting to a forest where no one ever comes?"

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked away, and Rumpelstiltskin resisted the urge to turn her face back, as he would have Bae's, when the boy wouldn't answer him. This kind of thought could get dangerous.

"If you want to deal, dearie, you have to start somewhere," he reminded her instead, folding his arms.

"The hunters destroyed the whole fortress," she blurted, "I didn't know they would, I thought they were just after Piotr, because he killed Ha- he killed the shepherd's girl, but then it wasn't just the village, the king's men were there, and it was my fault, I told the village man I would talk to Piotr and they followed me back, and I saw the fires take everything when I ran, and some of the king's men followed me but I outran them and then Piotr caught up, and, and everyone knew Hannah and I were, were--" she stopped. Took a deep, shuddering breath; he could practically see her grow a year or two, in that gasp. That's right, dearie. Don't tell your life story to dangerous men in dark forests.

"The king's men have a bounty on wolf-skins," she said, her voice a parody of calm, "And any of my pack who survived will kill me on sight. I - didn't mean to. But it's done, and now..." she trailed off.

He grinned at her, poked her in the collarbone. "And now, you need a place where your kin won't go, and the king's men won't go, and all you have to do is bargain with a monster for protection?"

She shook her head quickly. "Not protection! I can take care of myself, I don't want... anything else. I just - thought I could stay here."

"Shelter from your pursuers," he amended. "But what can you give me in return?" 

He saw her look away, and tried not to grind his teeth. The last four girls who'd tried to deal with him had offered their bodies; he truly, truly hoped she wouldn't continue the trend. Perhaps if he were another kind of man, he might enjoy the idea of young and pretty girls throwing themselves at him. If he could look past the revulsion and despair in their eyes, maybe he could.

When she looked back, there was no revulsion. The despair remained. He wondered who Hannah had been.

"I have nothing," she said quietly, "As you can see. But if - maybe there's something I could do. I'm a good hunter, I could - I don't know, fetch game? Or work like, like that until I have enough to pay you back."

He nearly sighed with relief, and reminded himself not to take a deal out of sheer 'Thank God she's not trying to seduce me without actually touching my skin' feelings. But... a wolf could be a useful thing to have in his forest. And it might, just might break cycle - it would be one fewer wolf to turn lunatic and start a cult, anyway. She was alone, desperate, and - damn it all, she reminded him of Bae, despite his efforts to avoid the memory.

"A watchdog," he mused, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Wolves, especially those who'd come out of the man-eating cults, tended to have pride that could rival the King's; once, he'd called the leader of a relatively small pack a sheepdog, and had spent the next two days prying the idiot's teeth out of the hide coat he'd been wearing. (The jaw, and in fact the head, had not been attached at that point.)

But she was either too young, or too desperate, and although he noted a moment of further despair, she nodded.

"I could guard your borders. Take on intruders. I - anything."

He rubbed his hands together and extended one to shake. After a moment, she took it.

He cackled madly. "Deal, then, dearie!" After a moment's pause, he turned on his heel and stalked off into the forest. "Come," he called over his shoulder, just for the sake of the thing.

She followed.


	2. First Blood

_The castle is off limits, always, unless given very specific instructions to the contrary. Don't leave the Dark Forest ever, for any reason. Don't kill the white hart. Don't chase the white hart. Do not, under any circumstances, hunt, chase, bark at, growl at, bite, or in any way attack, Rumpelstiltskin. Or his guests. (Unless otherwise directed.) Do not allow anyone to get within sight of the Dark Castle, unless explicitly directed otherwise. Don't eat anything out of the gardens, ever. Closed gates are closed for a reason. Open doors are not an invitation. Please look like a menacing wolf, not a bouncing puppy, when you are chasing intruders from the Dark Forest._

* * *

She smelled him before she saw him, on a cloudy afternoon two nights before the full moon, and a tingle ran down her spine. An intruder. Oh God. And she had no idea whether Rumpelstiltskin was around or not. She shoved her old hunting knife through her belt, and began to run. She caught up with the scent on the edge of the forest, and followed it a little ways in, halting when she drew close enough to hear him. The man walked like some kind of elephant.

Drawing closer, she grabbed an overhanging branch and swung herself up – going from tree to tree could be challenging, but this close, it was better than the ground. The wind whispered around her through the leaves, as she drew closer, trying to figure out what course to take. Perhaps he was looking for a deal – but everyone knew (apparently) that the way to make a deal with Rumpelstiltskin was to call his name. And... she drew closer, as he halted, apparently looking for a trail sign. There was a huge battleaxe strapped to his back, and his face was like a thundercloud. This man was not here for any peaceful reason. If she knocked him out, Rumpelstiltskin could decide what to do with him later.

Her mind made up, she flipped her hunting knife, gathered her strength, and landed on top of him, striking the top of his skull as hard as she could with the iron hilt of the knife. He let out a startled cry, but dropped beneath her weight.

As she rolled off him, watching warily, he stirred, opened his eyes, and started to struggle to his feet, roaring. She hesitated, her knife at the ready, and the wind howled through the trees, calling words that slid past her ears. She dodged his first charge, and dove in as he pivoted, the knife aimed for his neck.

His arm came up first, though, and the axe slammed into the knife, knocking it back, and cracking the blade. She stumbled back, and leapt aside again as the axe swept down. The man took another step forwards, raising the axe over his head, and stopped, frowning down at her.

“I will give you one chance,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. “Surrender now, throw down your weapon, and I will spare you. I seek the life of Rumpelstiltskin, not yours.”

She nodded, and with one quick motion, flung herself at the man, slashing with the knife. The momentum of her leap carried her within range of his weapon, but in a blind stroke, she cut the man's throat, and his blood splashed out, warm and tasting of iron and salt across her face and arms. She fell away, slipping out from under the body as it crumpled, and pulled herself up onto her hands and knees, retching. The fit passed, and she curled up, small and blank, against the bole of a tree behind her, and shook, staring at the bloodied ground.

Something made her look up; Rumpelstiltskin was standing a few feet before her, leaning on another tree, a strange light in his eyes as he watched her. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon by now, somehow, and she wondered whether it was the fight or her reaction afterward that had taken up the rest of the afternoon.

There was something in his hand, and he was turning it over in his hand, running his long, nimble fingers over the surface. After a moment, she recognized it as her knife, the blade now broken beyond repair. It had been rusty and old and near the end of its usefulness, but she caught her breath anyway. He studied her for a long moment, and tossed the knife over his shoulder – she was not entirely sure it hit the ground.

“Next time, dearie,” he told her, his voice smooth as silk, “Don't hesitate.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Daine caved to her first impulse, which was to huddle into a smaller ball still, shaking. She mastered it after a little while, as the dusk started to fade from the strange, invisible sort of manner that gave the entire wood a strangely ethereal feeling, to natural night-dark. She was alone. The body was gone, and she wasn't sure when that had happened, but there was still blood on her hands, her face, the ground all around her. The moon hadn't risen yet.

Not far off, there was a little stream, and a waterfall down into a pool; she stood, loosening her muscles, and forced herself to stretch before she headed off, walking. Running was too easy, right now. The water was loud enough to hear from a ways off, and smelled clean. She stumbled on the edge, and slid into the pool, cutting a gash open on her arm as she caught herself, falling. It was icy cold, but she waded in up to her chest, and ducked under. Her clothes were bloody too, but they would have to wait, she thought, yanking the tunic and breeches off, and hurling the sodden ball onto the shore. She devoted the rest of her time until moonrise scrubbing every inch of her skin, her fingers nearly numb from the cold. Her head was the worst – she couldn't reach the scalp through the thick hair that she usually tied back. She was halfway back to the shore, thinking to slice it off with the hunting knife, when she remembered Rumpelstiltskin had gotten rid of it, and it was broken anyway.

She'd find another one. Or make one. Or burn it. Or, failing that, yank it out strand by strand, she told herself, wading onto the shore. Somewhere around here, she'd tossed her...

Her tunic and breeches were folded, neatly, on the shore, out of reach of the water. On top of them was an object wrapped in black woolen cloth, about as long as her arm. She frowned, putting it aside, and dressed. By the light of the rising moon, not quite full, she pulled the cloth carefully apart, and sucked a breath in sharply at the fine blade within. It was good steel, excellent make, perfectly sized for her, and along with it, there was a smaller knife, just a bit smaller than the dagger she'd broken.

The note was pinned to the cloth. Use it well. --R

Both the note and cloth disappeared, dissolving like smoke between her hands. She stood, sliding the blade carefully into her belt. She'd have to make a sheath for it. For now, though - she remembered why she'd come back to shore. She walked back to the water, ducked her head below the surface, and methodically chopped as much of the mess off as possible. Her grip on the knife slipped a few times, and she couldn't cut all the way down to the skin, but by the time she was done, there wasn't enough hair left on her head to grab, and the only blood on her scalp was her own (fresh, from the three cuts she'd just picked up).

There was plenty of time to make a scabbard. She'd have it done before the frost. That in mind, she turned towards the little hollow where she'd last made camp, lost in thought.

What would he want in return?  
  


* * *

 

  
Daine was fixing a bad spot in the fence around the orchard, about two weeks later, when he caught up with her. The vines had taken some time, but none of them left a rash, for once, which was nice. The iron was an absolute wretch to fix, but she'd been making progress, so absorbed in her work that she failed to notice him approach through the bent and twisted fruit trees, in plain sight for once. By the time she looked up, he was about three feet away, and it was just the hiss of indrawn breath that warned her - at least she managed to avoid dropping the lever.

"Interesting choice of fashions," he remarked, his head cocked to one side. "If you needed a razor, dearie, all you had to do was ask. Be much easier than scalping yourself."

She laughed and leaned up against the fence, her arms crossed over her head. "I'm getting the hang of it," she told him, rubbing the stubble along her temples proudly. "This makes a good straight razor, anyway." She frowned, then, and hesitated. He raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know how... I don't know what you wanted, for these," she said, finally, touching the sword where it hung on her belt. "I don't know how to pay you."

He blinked at her, looking confused, for a moment, and then smiled, a different look from the usual terrifying feral leer - sad, somehow, and brief.

"You ripped a man's throat open," he said, rubbing his own throat as if for emphasis. "And broke your own knife, doing it. A guard who's only got teeth one night out of the month isn't much of a useful guard, is she, now?" He grinned and tapped the fence with one boot. "Keep mending property around here, and I'll have to give you a set of tools as well. Don't think of it as trade; it's recompense for job hazards." He winked at her, back to the bright and scary Rumpelstiltskin, and walked away, his boots clacking against the stone.


	3. Evil Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mark on the timeline.

Rumpelstiltskin spun. It kept him busy, and focused, and he had a lot to think about these days. He thought, perhaps, that a candidate might be in the works - someone who could help him find a way to the Other Land. Unwittingly, of course; he knew better than to ask anyone to take him to a land without magic. He wasn't entirely sure... it might do. She might do. And so he spun, letting his mind stay blank, stocking up on gold, not-thinking.

"Rumpelstiltskin! RUMPELSTILTSKIN!" Normally, the call only gave him a name and place to be, but he listened carefully this time, noting the panic:

"Oh God stay back, damn you! Rumpelstiltskin!" The scream was punctuated by savage growling, and he grinned and snapped his fingers.

"Well, well, well!" The scene was almost exactly as he'd pictured it. Cora was backed up against one of the oaks, holding a wand out. The wolf was snarling, snapping, and circling, clearly waiting for an opening. The magical barrier Cora had constructed to keep her at bay was faltering quickly - the woman had potential, he knew, but her resolve faded so quickly when emotions were involved. As now...

He giggled, watching her, and she paled. The barrier nearly faded altogether, and Daine pressed closer, lunging. Rumpelstiltskin sighed.

"Off, dearie," he called, "Not this time."

And just like that, the wolf was gone, off into the woods without a second glance, though he didn't doubt for a second she'd be somewhere close by. Time was, he remembered, she'd have looked back at him for confirmation, then sat back on the edge of sight, waiting just in case. These days, she'd... well, grown up. It had been a few years, now, since the wolf had stumbled into his forest, and she'd kept their deal immaculately. On the experimental side, he noted that she aged slowly - to the outward eye, she looked not much older than the stray who'd wandered in as a cub. That information, he'd filed away - apparently, his influence as the Dark One extended to the Dark One's castle and grounds, which also explained why the forest hadn't grown itself into a jungle by now. He would probably not make the mistake of allowing another to stay here, especially not someone dangerous. Like...

He grinned at Cora, who was staring at him with something between fear and fury, her features exaggerated in the moonlight.

"What. Was that."

The Dark One laughed, offering an arm. She ignored it and stepped down onto the path proper without aid, though she was still, he noticed, shaking. He'd have to work on that... perhaps. He would want her to be somewhat emotional, to give him the control he needed, but perhaps Cora was too far.

"There are wild beasts all around this land, dearie," he told her, indicating the woods around them. "Why else would I have told you to stay on the main road when you came a-calling?"

She stared at him, as if suspecting some trick, and shook her head. "It didn't work," she said finally. "The spell I tried."

He laughed again, and held out a hand. "Well, of course not! You probably had it backwards, and are quite lucky to be alive!"

She took his hand as if it were a firebrand, and he transported them both into the castle, out of earshot of any wild woods beasties.

***

It was mid-morning, and the wolf was curled up in the hollow of an old fallen tree, having turned back human. She was muttering softly, and he listened for a moment, before realizing she was asleep.

_no, Mum, no, don't, no-- no, no, Mum, please don't._

He rapped the side of the tree smartly, and loudly, for his own sanity as much as anything, and sat down on one of the twisted branches, hands folded far too neatly in his lap. She started awake, and the fear and rabid hostility was just a flash across her face, before she recognized him, and remembered to be young.

"Sleeping in, dearie?"

She made a face and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "There was a kid walking back and forth, on the edge of the road. I thought he was going to head in, but he turned around again, walked away. Took about half the night to make up his mind, though." She yawned.

He grinned and half-bowed, acknowledging the point. "A rough few days! But I think I can help. Let the witch through next time, dearie."

Daine straightened a bit, frowning at him. "Next- she's coming back?"

"Not exactly the reaction I was looking for," he said, masking his curiosity. "You're here to keep out the unwanteds, not chase off my guests."

She bit her lip and nodded, though the way she looked away was... interesting. He made a 'go on' gesture, raising an eyebrow.

"She's evil," the girl said flatly. "Not... edgy. Evil." She gritted her teeth, looked at him. "I don't know how else to say it. Everything about her is-- off."

He giggled and slid off the branch, coming to a stand about half an arm's length away from her. "Forget who you're talking to there, dearie? So am I!"

Daine rolled her eyes. "You're you, though," she said, as if that explained it all. "You're not - that."

Rumpelstiltskin studied her, shook his head, and tapped her forehead. "Point taken. Let the evil witch through next time." There wasn't much room for argument, with him, but he vanished before she could attempt it.


	4. Word Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...or, The Case of the Rose at Noontide. Rumpelstiltskin sends Daine out of the forest on a sinister errand, and everything seems changed when she returns.

It had been two weeks since she came to the forest, a bundle slung over her back, and Daine had watched very, very carefully as she made it through the road, to the Dark Castle. There were three marked ways through the forest, and one way to get there by boat; all four ways had an enchantment, and no one who intended to plunder, pillage, or attack Rumpelstiltskin would be able to do so by the time they reached the castle. Those who came with misdeeds in mind would try to find their way through the forest, using various paths and trails. They usually met their end before they were even halfway there - she saw to that.

She felt redundant, sometimes. Rumpelstiltskin had seen to his own lands' safekeeping for decades, possibly centuries, before she came along. Why would he need a guardian now? But she stopped herself from asking too many questions. She liked it here. She saw Rumpelstiltskin but rarely, once every few weeks, sometimes months, when he wanted something done, or to point out an intruder he wanted spared. "Some people just don't like the roads, dearie," he'd sing-song, shrugging it off. 

A few of those people had tried to kill him at the end of their road. One with a small knife, one with a hatchet, and one with a fireball spell he really, _really_ hadn't a clue how to use properly. Rumpelstiltskin had dispatched the first, after plucking the knife carefully out of his chest, struck a deal with the second, after the hatchet bounced off of his neck, and turned the third into a rabbit. He didn't need looking after, and everything he did seemed to have a specific purpose, when you looked closely. Sure, at first it was easy to mistake him for a madman. But no mere madman was quite _that_ complicated. So she wondered, at times, what her purpose here was. Why he sent her on errands at all, if he was easily capable of doing them himself. What his purpose was for her, in the end - and if she really wanted an answer to that.

The woman who'd come through two weeks ago had been tall, lean, and had walked with a slight limp. Her hair was long, but she kept it braided and tied in a no-nonsense sort of way, down no further than the neck. She'd had an angry demeanor, and hard eyes, and Daine's at-a-glance analysis was that she'd survived a great deal in her days. She'd carried a small knife at the belt, but Daine's money was on the cane for damage usefulness.

She'd left still holding the bundle, but without her worn and dusty cloak, leaning, Daine thought, more heavily on her cane. She'd seen her to the borders of the forest, staying out of sight between the trees, of course. Rumpelstiltskin had been in and out of the castle a few times; business as usual, she thought.

"A word, dearie," he said, from rather too close behind her. She mastered the impulse to jump, and turned to look. He grinned his crooked grin at her, and she made a face. She would think it would eventually get old, startling someone every time you wanted to see them, but he seemed to be amused every time.

"All the words you like, boss," she told him, bowing.

"Murder~," he sang, giggling that unsettling giggle.

She nodded slowly. "Murder... what, in general?"

"Well - no. Murder, specifically."

Daine grimaced, but she knew better than to dodge or complain of the word games. That was a mistake you only needed to make once, with Rumpelstiltskin.

"Specific murder of... someone."

He laughed again. "You remember her, I'm sure," he said, mock-thoughtful. "She traded me the safety of her babe for her own life - it was a very ~specific~ deal."

"Oh - oh." Daine realized the woman he meant, and nodded, swallowing her sudden panic. They had a deal. "Where does she live? Is there anything... specific, that I need to do?"

Rumpelstiltskin peered at her one way, and another, as though probing for a weak spot. "Well... yes." He grinned maddeningly. "Her little shack is three days' travel on the north road, across the lake. She must be dead... within the week."

"I can do that."

"And you will!" He bowed, and turned to stalk away, calling over his shoulder, "Or ~else."

The trip across the lake and north along the road was uneventful; she passed Regina coming the other way, and steered well clear of that foreboding carriage, keeping off to the woods. When she got back to the forest, something was subtly different. It took her a few days to pin down, and even then, she only realized it when she found the shrunken ogre's head, hanging from one of the willows.

Something big had happened, some deal she probably didn't want to know about. She was still dealing with what she'd done in her own time away, the woman's calm acceptance, the blood after - she had no desire whatsoever to go shoving her nose in more deals. But the strange thing was... the castle didn't feel darker. It felt lighter, somehow. She saw Rumpelstiltskin walking, sometimes, throughout the garden, or the castle ramparts. For a good few weeks, he seemed strangely off balance. It confused and worried her, and she stayed out of sight, until she saw the girl.

The castle's windows had been darkened, closed off by massive curtains, since long before her time; it had never occurred to her that they could be any other way. She was standing by the edge of the garden, checking her traps, when the curtains suddenly fell away, tumbling to reveal a light, shining through. Daine blinked, looking up... and nearly dropped her knife.

Rumpelstiltskin stood in the window, a woman in his arms, looking down at her as though he'd only just now noticed she existed, and she was the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen. She was looking back at him... almost the same exact way, Daine noticed. She blinked, picked her trap up, and slipped back into the wood, leaving the two to their privacy. Rumpelstiltskin had probably forgotten the entire forest existed, she thought, grinning.

Twice, people came calling for Rumpelstiltskin; he dealt with one, curtly and quickly. The second was a sneak-thief, and Daine dispatched him as soon as he'd set foot in the forest. She would not suffer -- this -- to be interrupted. Whatever it was.

The third came marching up the old castle road, full of pomp and righteous anger, muttering about how the brute had stolen what was rightfully his, Daine heard, as he passed. She very nearly tore his throat out there, but rules were rules.

The rose was a nice touch, she thought.


	5. Like Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief chapter: the aftermath, and another strange task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is, as the summary explains, a brief chapter - more of an interlude, really. I'm going to be likely quite busy for a while, and despite my attempt at buffer, I don't know how well this work is going to proceed in the meantime.

It had been pouring rain for two weeks now. The thunder was an ever-present rumbling in the background, occasionally bursting out into a terrifying explosion. Daine walked the borders as she always did, and otherwise kept her head down. She had no idea what had happened, or where the bright girl had gone, but she knew enough to get the hell out of the way. Last time she'd been involved in a relationship collapse, there had been flames and hunters. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

She wouldn't have expected it to be Regina who broke the rage that had been coloring the land for so long, but apparently, she had _something_ to say to Rumpelstiltskin, because the storm broke when the queen left, later that day. The rain was still a driving one, stinging when it struck the skin, but the violence was gone from the wind, and the thunder had dissipated. Daine wondered what it was about the magic here, that extended Rumpelstiltskin's emotions across his lands, and if he was aware of it. Probably not, she thought - he seemed to consider the world around him as more of a model to be manipulated, with a cast of characters, rather than a cast of equals.

She was sitting on the far edge of the forest, overlooking the little falls, on the first day after the rain stopped.

"I have a job for you, dearie." His voice was as cheerful, cheerless, brittle and manic, as it had ever been. She stood, turning to face him over the stream.

He studied her for a long moment with that strange look, as though wondering what this alien thing before him was, and what it would look like sliced in half. She shivered, waiting for him to go on.

"What was her name?" he asked, finally.

Daine looked at him for a moment, before she realized what he was asking. She swallowed, pushing the memories back. "Hannah," she said, looking down. "Her name was Hannah."

He had known that, she thought, remembering their first encounter. Maybe the name had more power this way - or maybe, she thought, with a slight chill, he thought she might have forgotten by now, or the pain dulled. _No such luck, boss,_ she thought, looking back down at the falls. The Dark One was immortal; he'd be stuck with that heartache for a long time. She bit her tongue before she could say the empty, worn-out words of something like sympathy that came to mind.

Rumpelstiltskin was silent a moment, when she looked back at him, as if he guessed her thoughts, daring her to speak them. Suddenly, he grinned, seeming to shrug the last few moments off like a discarded cloak. "You need to set a fire," he said, crossing his arms. "Well - several fires, really. Many fires. We're on a tight schedule now, and I can't be expected to do all the minor details myself!" He grinned, and handed her a piece of wood. "Get a good long whiff, dearie," he advised. "You're going off to the Enchanted Forest, and every tree of this kind, save one, must die."


	6. Things Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which mistakes are made, and conclusions reached.

It was the night of the full moon, and Daine was pacing in one of the closed path that ran out of the garden into the wood. The shadow that fell over her wasn't entirely unexpected, but she flinched all the same. There was a scent in the air that she didn't know; something was up, and she didn't like it.

"Hold still, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin trilled; his voice had more depth to a wolf's ears, but then, so did everything. She glanced over her shoulder as his shadow fell across her, and something soft swept from his arms, making her sneeze - that smelled like...

_Wolfsbane_ , she realized, and something more alchemical, but by the time she gathered her wits to flee, the cloak had fallen on her, and she stumbled on a fold and, terrified, sprawled gracelessly across the dirt. There was a soft hissing sound, a tingling sensation just under her fur, and she felt the flesh beneath the cloth begin to sear and blister.

She screamed aloud in pain, and staggered back up to throw it off; her legs felt all wrong, and it was with a terrible jolt that she realized two of them were arms, and her scream was that of a girl's. She whirled, lashing out with her right arm, but a strong hand caught her about the wrist before the blow connected.

"You're making a mistake," Rumpelstiltskin warned her, reaching for the cloak. "Don't make this worse than it is, Daine--"

She snarled at him and pulled away - he let go of the wrist, easily, and she sprawled backwards again, this time sans cloak. She began to change again, growling steadily as she felt the wolf rise within.

Rumpelstiltskin was muttering, reaching up and down across the cloak, something flashing silver between his fingers. "Ah," he said, mostly to himself. "Too much extract of aconitine - and the enchantment needs to be - yes, that's--" he stopped, raising a hand without looking up. "Don't go anywhere, dearie!"

Growling, Daine took a step back - the next was harder, and the third harder still, as she found the air leaving her lungs, refusing to return.

"I warned you," he called, sprinkling something from a flask across the cloak. It glowed for a moment, and he clapped once, in apparent glee, before turning back to her. "Now. Hold _still_."

She snarled at him with her remaining breath as he approached, and snapped her jaws as his hand descended to clamp around the scruff of her neck. Her teeth closed inches shy of his flesh, though whether it was by his efforts or hers, she wasn't sure.

The cloak fell across her back again, and she shivered, suddenly without the thick hide of her wolf to shield her from the biting wind. The skin on her back was pure agony beneath the cloth, but it seemed to have stopped spreading. The horrible tingling feeling rushed up her spine, and the searing pain faded.

"Stand up, now," he told her, taking a step back. "Pull it on properly!"

Daine stood slowly, pulling the cloak around her shoulders, and tying it in front. There was a hood, behind; it was really quite warm. She glanced up at the sky, as if to check her eyes, and Rumpelstiltskin cackled.

"Oh, it's there, dearie! It just can't turn you, not while you wear the cloak!" He stepped back and leaned against a nearby tree, tapping the bark with one gloved finger as he watched her. "Wear it the night through," he said, finally, "To test. We'll talk in the morning."

And with that, he was gone, not even the usual cloud of purple smoke heralding his departure. Daine shivered and, suddenly exhausted, sat down heavily against the outer wall of the gardens, curling against the cold stone.

***

The cloak worked. Enchanting it with the potion of silver nitrate had been a stroke of genius, if he did say so himself. Lore had claimed for centuries that the curse of lycanthropy was irreversible. The widow would pay him well - as she should, aye, for it was a wonder that should have been impossible, by all rights. Rumpelstiltskin grinned, looking out over the forest. The dawn was beginning to show, in the far east, over the horizon.

He turned on his heel and strode down the long spiral staircase. He'd have to deliver the cloak in any case, and that meant dealing with this... unpleasantness, first. It would've happened sooner or later, he told himself. He'd about counted on it.

The werewolf had dressed, and the cloak was folded neatly and carefully at her feet, where she sat, her back propped against the wall. He took the cloak, stowed it away in a small puff of magic, and folded his arms. There was a long silence. She had broken the deal by attacking him, however ineffectually. The best way this could end for her was a simple dissolution of their long-standing pact. He'd killed men for far less than she'd done last night, and she knew - she'd seen him do it.

"So what happens now?" she asked, finally, her voice bleak in the empty air as she stood, pulling herself up by the edge of the garden wall.

He made a show of thinking carefully, turned across the way. "This is normally the part," he told her, chiming playfully on the words, "Where you plead for your life~!" He paused, and marked the air with a finger. "You've seen it often enough, you should know."

She grimaced, and looked away.

"Nothing? Really?" He reached halfway forward, towards her heart, and paused. "I expected you to have _something_ to say to me, before we ended this."

Almost too quietly to be heard, she whispered. "I'm sorry I broke our deal, Rumpelstiltskin."

He blinked, but didn't move. "Is that you asking for your life, dearie?"

Daine shook her head. "No. I swore I'd never plead with you - no. Not my life." She looked up at the last, meeting his eyes. "Your forgiveness. I should've trusted you, after all this time. I just... smelled the wolfsbane, and panicked."

Rumpelstiltskin nodded once, and reached all the way... _through_ , pausing just once, as the tips of his fingers found that strange and powerful beat, to murmur, "That's it? You're _sorry_? That's all you have to say?"

She gasped, and managed to choke out, "That's - it. I'm -hf - sorry... though - _ah_ \- in my... defense, you -did- drop... wolfsbane... on me."

He let go of the heart, and she stumbled, nearly collapsing as she slid backwards and hit the wall.

"Let's make a deal," he told her, and, still gasping, she stuck out a hand.


	7. A Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Deal to End - well, to end their deal, anyway - takes Daine strange and unexpected places, with strange and disconcerting news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I had thought this story was terrible! Reading back over, it's surprisingly... uh... not terrible. Also, my laptop screen cracked this summer, so I didn't have access to any of my files, including the story notes. Now that things are returning to normal (or as normal as college life on the quarter system gets, anyway), I'll try and go back to updating weekly.

Daine had to keep reminding herself that she was not in her own land anymore. None of it seemed real, and she was certain she lacked the capacity to grasp it entirely. Traveling to another land, in and of itself, was strange. Traveling to another land in order to climb a mountain that probably shouldn't exist was stranger. Traveling to another land to climb a possibly-mythic mountain in order to drink a potion that would enable her to fly into the clouds... 

Traveling to another land to climb this mountain, which she kept reminding herself to believe in as she scaled the cliff, in order to take a potion to step off the mountain onto the clouds...

So that she could steal fairy dust from the fairies.

"'It's simple,' he said. 'You'll have great fun,' he said. 'Do this and I won't rip your heart out of your chest,' he said..." she paused. "Okay, so maybe it was a complicated situation to begin with."

There'd been a few pieces of what looked like an old, old fairy wand laying on his workbench, along with a pair of calipers, a pile of weights, scattered bits of gold thread, a spool of spiderweb, and a shriveled hand, as well as the answer to quite a few questions she'd had - what had happened to Charming's cloak, for one, and that time an enormous bear had shown up and left without one ear, carrying a sack of gold.

The wand hadn't had nearly as much fairy dust as he wanted, he'd told her, and it was mostly in the wrong format anyway. It was really quite important that he get his hands on the dust. The ink he'd handled, but the fairy dust was tricky - "For some~ reason, they don't take kindly to my own self popping through their doors," he'd said, looking terribly offended.

And so here she was, having left the day after the full moon - which gave her exactly twenty-eight days to get this done. She didn't fancy turning into a baying beast in the middle of a fairy heist. According to her tracking, she had about a week and a half left, which was excellent timing; she should be to the cloud-henge by the end of tomorrow.

***

The clouds were strange. If she pushed down hard enough, she could get one hand pretty deep in, but they were icy cold. Occasionally, she'd hit places where the clouds were quite a bit like mountains themselves, dark gray and heavy and crackling sparks if she pushed into them much at all. Those were the best, but standing at the edges came close. Looking down into the world proper, nearly too far away to make out anything smaller than rivers, castles, towns, she could believe anything she wanted was happening down there.

It was dangerous, though. The lightning, she suspected, mostly - it was unpredictable - but the edges had a way of breaking apart, and if you weren't careful, you'd wind up on an island, with no control over where you were headed. That had happened a few times, though it had only lost her serious ground once.

She hadn't slept on the clouds, though it had been three days. She wasn't sure if it was the potion, or if time affected people differently up here, or perhaps the magic of the fairies was drawing her in.

Fairyland was obvious when she found it, though. The wide, sparkling hedges around it, the glittering towers, the lower clouds with trails of magic across them, and the air traffic. She waited until night to approach, shivering through the day, the gray and foggy woolen cloak Rumpelstiltskin had given her working more as a disguise than a coat, at this point.

Recon was important - she noted different things about the way the fairies came and went, holes in their clouds that led down into the world, towers that they flew up to with what appeared to be gems, and one enormous vault, covered in shimmering, silvered tracery. Most of the fairies went through on their way down; she had a feeling she knew what was there, and that she needed it.

When night fell, she slipped through the edge, her sword and dagger in easy reach, her cloak covering all but her eyes. It was easier than she'd thought - the fairies glowed and sparkled as they passed, and it was simple work to dodge out of the way before they saw her. They didn't appear to have any idea that their land wasn't utterly impenetrable, which amused her. For all the world spent so much time worrying about how powerful Rumpelstiltskin was, they definitely seemed to underestimate his reach.

Or maybe they just had no idea he was even interested - the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like they had no idea how complicated the world under them was. She did not much care for the simple black-and-white way they seemed to see things, or for the solutions they managed. She dodged her way through their land easily, and made it to the vault. The guard was humming to herself, and doodling something on the desk. 

Daine slipped up behind her, and before she could react, the dagger's point was at her neck.

"Don't move," Daine breathed. "I won't hesitate to use it."

The girl shook her head. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and quavering.

Daine slipped the shorter piece of the rope she'd brought around her captive's wrists, and fastened it to one corner of the little table. She glanced at the drawing next to the map there - a fairly good portrait, she thought, though why a fairy would be daydreaming about a dwarf was beyond her.

"Just stay quiet," Daine ordered, looking around. There was a tall door on the far end of the room, and she crossed quickly; it was unlocked. Behind it was her prize, in mounds, spread across the floor. She shook out the pouch, and filled it as full as she could, sneezing as the dust stirred up clouds of glitter around her.

"I don't know what he promised you," a low voice interrupted, as she strode back towards the table, where she'd seen a handful of exits penned on the map. She glanced up; another fairy was standing there, at the door. This girl looked older, more composed, and her arms were folded over a pale blue dress. She barely glittered at all, Daine realized - probably very low on magic.

"Whatever it is, it's not worth it," she continued. "I know it seems hard, but he's not what you think. You have a choice, and right now, you're blowing it."

Daine rolled her eyes and looked down at the map, noting the quickest way was in the corner of the room, a trapdoor - she'd have to use the rest of the rope. "What would you know about my choices?" she muttered.

"You don't understand," the fairy told her, stepping closer - she stopped when Daine drew her sword, but spread her hands and continued, "He's not as powerful as it seems."

Grimacing, Daine kept her sword up as she backed away from the table, towards the trapdoor. She slipped the knot off the corner and pulled the first girl along with her, keeping her eyes on the free fairy by the door.

"How do you know why I'm here?" she asked, honestly a bit curious about the answer.

The fairy laughed. "Who else would tell someone to steal fairy dust from us? Besides, that cloak reeks of the Dark One's magic."

Daine half-sniffed a fold of the cloak and raised an eyebrow at the fairy as she kicked the trap door open.

"...Figuratively speaking. I have stronger senses than most fairies; if I'd been on guard, you'd never have made it in here. Seriously, though - you don't know what you're doing, you have to stop."

Daine sighed and tied the rope around the handle of the trapdoor. "You know, I really doubt that. You _want_ me to stop, that's hardly the same thing."

The fairy shook her head. "He's not going to be around much longer," she said, "So whatever deal he promised you, you can leave it - if you stall for a while, even just waiting up here, you can get away from him clean."

Suspicious, Daine tested the knot, shoved the other fairy, who hadn't spoken yet, aside, and stretched. "I find it hard to believe that you're just going to offer me sanctuary here, free and clear," she replied, glancing down through the opening - oh, God, that was a long way down. "I sweated blood to get this deal, and now you're trying to tell me I bet on the wrong horse?"

She shook her head. "I'm telling you you bet on a snake," she said. "If you just wait a few months, there's a plot - we're going to have him cornered and captured, harmless and... you, and anyone else who thinks they owe him, are going to be free."

...Now that did not sound good at all. Daine folded her arms. "See, that's the thing about you fairies. You only have respect for your own rules, and you think the rest of us are the same way. What makes you think you can just step in and 'fix' things like this? Your whole... side, you make me sick. You think everything's good and pure and light, and people like me, people like Rumpelstiltskin, we're just soulless monsters who muck everything up for the fun of it. The way it looks from here, I've seen evil, and I've seen good, and I'm pretty damn sure most of us are just in between. Your 'light' is just as dangerous to us little people as the darkness, and I'll tell you right now the Good King's wars have left just as many people without a life or a hope as the Dark One's deals - or more. So what makes you so great? Prince Charming and Princess Snow White make a pretty couple, that makes everything they do good?

"You live up here, in your cloud, and you think the mortals down beneath you are just that - you have these whole ideal worlds about Good, and Evil, but you know what? All I see from here is power, and those who wield it. What makes you and your pretty magics any different from Rumpelstiltskin's ugly ones?" She shook her head. "You keep your own deals, fairy girl, and I'll keep mine."

With a final shove, to get the terrified guard out of the way, Daine leapt through the door, and the rope spooled out of her bag. She fumbled to keep her grip on it through the cloak, but it still rubbed and burned as she fell, and when she hit the end, still a good long bone-breaking ways off the ground, she felt a snap, and something in her wrist screamed. She gritted her teeth, and, dangling at the end of the rope, slapped the piece of cloth Rumpelstiltskin had given her over it. In the few seconds remaining, she yanked the loose thread of the cloak, and it began to come apart, falling to the ground like a feather. She fell with it, bracing herself for the impact. Most of it was absorbed by the cloudlike thing that her cloak had become; it dissipated on final contact, and she fell through it with a thud.

Above her, the rope she'd used to escape burned up through the sky like a fuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No full explanation on to what extent I agree with Daine's "Reason You Suck" speech to the fairy, there. It is not negligible, but neither is it entire; let's just say I have a complicated relationship with organized religion, especially the dualistic sorts.

**Author's Note:**

> Daine was not, initially, inspired by Veralidaine Sarrasri - it was just a coincidence, following my thought that "Diana" didn't seem to fit the kid just right. Once I slapped that name on, though, I think she changed to fit better. Still - not a crossover, and she won't be manifesting Wild Magic. She's just a werewolf. And Rumbelle is still canon, not only because slashing Rumpel with a kid young enough to be his son is just creepy, but also because... well, Rumbelle is just canon.


End file.
